


Warning Labels

by Azzandra



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, F/F, Humor, Snarky Hawke, flirtation, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 16:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2858123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azzandra/pseuds/Azzandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor meets Hawke. Let's just say they hit it off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warning Labels

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for a [kink meme prompt](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/12149.html?thread=47483253#t47483253).

Evelyn Trevelyan was surprised by many things about Hawke, and one of them was that she did not seem larger than life in the way The Tale of the Champion might imply. Between a tendency to make truly awful jokes and her easy, friendly grin, Hawke came across more like an old drinking buddy or a mischievous older sister, depending on the person.  
  
But, Evelyn had to admit, Hawke certainly had  _something_ ; a compelling talent for pulling people into her orbit, an indomitable force of will, and a certain way of cocking her hip that had Evelyn itching put her hand on it. Which Evelyn was most certainly not thinking about as she talked to the Champion of Kirkwall, because if she started thinking like that, she wouldn't be able to concentrate on the conversation. And also because it would be unprofessional.  
  
Still, Hawke--(“Just Hawke. Really. Nobody calls me anything else. Well, alright, they call me plenty of things, but I wouldn't want to use any of _those_  as my name.”)--had to have noticed something, because her smile kept getting wider, and by the time they were finished talking, it had fully entered leer territory.  
  
“Anyway,” Hawke said, pushing away from the parapet she was leaning against, “you go do your thing. And as a personal favor, please don't get killed. They might try giving your job to  _me_.”  
  
Then she gave a bark of laughter and smacked Evelyn's behind before walking off.  
  
Evelyn was frozen in place as a wave of heat passed over her body, settling mostly in her burning cheeks and between her legs. Her mouth hung open in disbelief for a few second. She looked over to Hawke, who gave one last smug look over her shoulder as she sauntered off, hips swaying in a way that had to be deliberate.  
  
Hawke was long gone by the time Evelyn felt her blush recede enough that she dared leave the battlements.  
  


* * *

  
  
Evelyn was the picture of composure the next few times she spoke to Hawke. It helped that it was mostly on practical matters, and the entire situation with the Gray Wardens put a dampener on any attempt at flirtation.  
  
But once it was over, Evelyn got the impression that Hawke would be leaving for Weisshaupt right away, and was therefore quite surprised to walk into her quarters and find Hawke on the balcony.  
  
“That was a mess, huh?” Hawke shot over her shoulder, not bothering to turn around.  
  
“They always are,” Evelyn said, joining the other woman on the balcony.  
  
“Oho, you learn quickly,” Hawke chuckled.   
  
She had a bottle in her hand, and raised it towards Evelyn in a toast before taking a swig.  
  
There was a glass on the stone banister, but Hawke hadn't been using it, because it was still pristine. Instead Hawke picked it up and handed it to Evelyn, who murmured thanks as she accepted it. Then Hawke poured out a few drops from her bottle, barely enough to cover the bottom of the glass. It was a clear liquid, with a potent alcoholic smell which stung the nostrils.  
  
Evelyn raised an eyebrow at this, but Hawke only smiled, eyes glinting in mischief.  
  
Sighing, Evelyn drank everything in the glass. It was barely enough for a tiny swallow, but it immediately made Evelyn double over, coughing and wheezing. The glass itself took a tragic plunge off the balcony.  
  
Hawke thankfully didn't laugh as she patted Evelyn's back.  
  
“Sorry, should have brought some of the non-gut-melty stuff for you,” Hawke said.

Evelyn leaned with her forearms on the banister, trying to appear casual.  
  
“That's alright,” Evelyn said, voice embarrassingly hoarse. “Nothing like a near-death experience to get the blood flowing.”  
  
Hawke snickered a bit, and then broke into laughter in earnest. She had a rich laugh. Pleasant. Reassuring. It did all sorts of things to Evelyn, sending heat roiling under her skin and low in her belly.  
  
“Just to be clear, though, you  _choose_  to drink this?” Evelyn asked as Hawke's laughter subsided.  
  
“Can't help it. The good stuff is wasted on me,” Hawke shrugged.  
  
“Could it be because drinking things like this has deadened your palate?” Evelyn asked primly.  
  
Hawke gave a thoughtful look to the label.  
  
“Doesn't say anything about palate in the warnings,” she said, “but then, I don't think the people this stuff is intended for would know what that is.”  
  
“Oh, it has warnings,” Evelyn remarked in a perfect deadpan. “Plural.”  
  
“I find the best things in life do,” Hawke said.  
  
Evelyn rather thought that Hawke was also one of those things which should come with warnings. One of the warnings would probably be “Handsy”, underlined twice in red, because after taking another swig of the reprehensible liquid in the bottle, Hawke's hand found Evelyn's ass. Not grabbing or anything like that, but just gently—almost politely—placed there. Maybe rubbing a bit, if Evelyn wasn't missing her guess.  
  
“So,” Hawke said, and trailed off.  
  
“So,” Evelyn returned, in the exact same tone of voice.  
  
“Getting a bit chilly here?” Hawke suggested.  
  
“My bed has very warm covers,” Evelyn managed to say, without even once stuttering.  
  
Hawke grinned.

* * *

  
  
By morning, Evelyn concluded that Hawke's warning label should also include 'hogs covers, has very cold feet'.


End file.
